


LemonyDemon Drabbles

by OrbManson7



Category: All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrbManson7/pseuds/OrbManson7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellington Feint and Lemony Snicket make quite a pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like

She liked him. She really liked him. And that was the problem.  
Ellington Feint was a very smart girl, and she knew very well by now that one thing she needn't get involved in right now was a relationship with a boy. And that went double for a boy like Snicket.  
Lemony Snicket was an acceptable boy; she could tell herself as much and pretend that she didn't believe he was anything more. She found it fairly easy, in fact, to pretend that he was rather average-looking instead of handsome in his own prepubescent glory, that his eyes were as plain as they come and not wide, open, and observant of everything except the obvious fact that they gave away everything he was feeling in that moment. She could pretend Lemony Snicket was not the sort of person she liked this way, not her type, not the boy she thinks about at night when she's alone and the cold and the dark are back to slowly creep around her and swallow her whole, but she'd be a liar. Not that she wasn't one already.  
She was in love with a boy named Lemony Snicket, after all.  
Ellington scoffed at her own thoughts with that. Was there really any other explanation, any lie she could construe--she could fabricate--in the middle of this night to convince herself that what she’d just told herself wasn’t true?   
Of course there wasn’t. But who hadn’t ever heard of a young girl in love? Who was she to deny the obvious?  
She could just let it happen. She could just let this blossom, come to fruition, become something worth living through fully and honestly, for once. The worst that could happen is a broken heart, after all. And she wasn’t a stranger to that pain, not in the slightest.   
Head-first, she could dive in, let her heart be taken by this supposedly-average boy with his supposedly-plain eyes and his supposedly-normal hair and everything else. She liked him, after all. She really liked him.   
\--


	2. Trust

He didn’t trust her. He really didn’t trust her. But was that really the problem?  
Lemony Snicket would not consider himself a particularly intelligent boy, but all of his training, all of his common sense, had taught him well not to get involved in relationships with girls. Especially girls like Ellington.  
Ellington Feint was not a truthful girl, she hid many a plan, an idea, from him and he was well aware of that, but the truth never seemed to stop the incessant belief he had that she may change, that she may only be wearing a rough exterior and there was still something soft and endearing inside. The more he managed to stare deep into that pair of emerald green eyes, the more often he swore he’d caught a glimpse of that softer interior he was certain was there.   
Though, he’d never admit to staring in the first place. If he happened to be taking a long look, it was purely due to his natural investigative habits. He was studying her, not admiring the young woman in front of him; he was detailing important traits in case he needed to track her down again while she hid beneath another disguise, not revering the impactful darkness of her blacker-than-night hair and matching, painted nails. He didn’t look on in desire, and certainly not worship, of her long, slender fingers and excellently cared-for hands.   
He took long glances, he peered longer than most investigators would, sure, but that merely meant he happened to be better at his job, is all.   
Snicket scoffed, despite himself. Just who was he trying to fool with all this, anyway?  
Sure, he knew that he couldn’t trust her, but that didn’t seem to stop his heart from pumping blood to beat loudly in his ears whenever she happened to walk by.  
He knew the symptoms well enough to deduce what sort of illness he seemed to have. Clearly, he was suffering from a harsh case of love, and no amount of willful self-discipline would cure him.   
Perhaps resilience was the key, though? If he continued to push these persistent thoughts, the vivid imagination that wracked his brain late at night when it was always inconvenient, if he blocked her out enough, maybe it would finally stop.  
Or maybe he’d just dig a deeper trench for himself to fall into.   
He somehow knew he’d take that risk, regardless of the potential consequence. In the end, the worst that could result of this was a broken heart, after all. He’d endured much worse than that in the past.  
He’d force his thoughts to clear. He had to, for the sake of his job, for the sake of everyone. Oh, he’d still keep his promise with Ellington, but he knew he couldn’t trust her. He really didn’t trust her.  
\--


	3. Tired Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this doesn't really qualify as a drabble, but I have nowhere else to put it~~

She had watched out of the corner of her eye as his breathing evened out; his fingertips stopped slowly tapping against the counter and finally had gone lax, along with the rest of his body.  
Asleep.  
Ellington let out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding. Snicket was asleep, so she could relax. She stared down at her empty cup of coffee, knowing she'd certainly need more if she were to make it through this night. As well as several more, but she fought the afterthought and did her best to focus on the present.  
Right now, she was in the coffee shop, next to a sleeping Lemony Snicket, and not nearly clear-headed enough to process the events of the whole day that had just passed.

Slowly but surely, Ellington was becoming certain that she really liked this boy. Watching his shoulders slowly rise and fall with his deep breaths in sleep, she recognized that dry feeling in her mouth and that inopportune thought process that liked to make its rounds at this time of the night. She momentarily wondered if Snicket ever had these kinds of thoughts about her. She wondered just what he was dreaming about now, too. Did she ever visit his dreams? Was she the villain of said dreams?  
She glanced back at her empty cup, knowing where that train of thought was headed and applied the brakes harshly before it got there. She knew Snicket didn't trust her enough, but she hoped that she could earn his forgiveness at some point down the road. A voice in the back of her mind led her to believe that maybe if she coupled her terrible deeds with good ones, then maybe the boy could look past what she’d done to get this far, and finally let her in.   
The voice that was louder and clearer, however, told her not to listen to that other voice because it was wrong.   
She leaned forward, putting all her weight on her elbows against the counter--the opposite of how anyone with table manners would typically sit. But she was tired, and her only companion on this night was fast asleep and breathing heavy, long breaths onto the counter beneath his huddled form.   
Ellington craned her neck away as she realized she’d been staring again. She berated herself; she couldn’t even see his face and she was enraptured by him. Just how soft was she?   
And just how long was she going to let this go on? Snicket’s distrust led to her secrets coming into the light where anyone could see them the longer she spent at this boy’s side. The more she let him in, the more he seemed to find out about her. Could she really risk letting him see it all? How far was she planning to allow this boy to play her heartstrings like an instrument his hands only tempted to play when they were all alone?   
She couldn’t help but wonder if she was making any breakthroughs with him. Did he trust her more now--or far less--than when they’d first met? Was the progress of her feelings toward him having even the smallest of effects on his own towards her?   
The silence in the room didn’t answer her questions. She knew the only person who could, however, was sitting right next to her. The biggest question of all, though, was if she would ever ask them.  
How would he respond to such questions? Probably with more questions of his own, she figured. Snicket seemed to prefer asking the questions, not answering them. She didn’t blame him; she didn’t like answering them, either.   
How would he respond about her feelings, though, if she made them very well-known? Snicket’s investigative nature made her almost certain he’d figured that part about her out long before she did. She may very well have been stringing her along this whole time--his knowledge knew no bounds, and while she saw his heart to be kind, that didn’t mean his actions always were. He was a teenager, just like she was, after all. There were bound to be mean and brash things floating in his mind at least on occasion. His mouth oftentimes revealed a hint of what may be behind that all-knowing smile...which was a fancy way of saying he was a sass-master and didn’t seem to care who knew it.  
Ellington felt herself smiling at that thought. Sneaking a glance over at the snoozing Snicket, she knew that she happened to like that about him. He had a smart mouth, one that matched his smart brain. And he seemed to have a big heart, one that Ellington knew should have more than enough room for her inside, and yet the boy only ever relished the occasional blush with this carefully-constructed words. Everything he said to her merely lead her to put together a puzzle, one that held no hint of what it was meant to look like once completed.   
She often wondered what the point of watching and playing by those words so carefully was really going to get her in the end. Was her flirting only boosting the boy’s ego enough for him to flirt back, or was she really getting the message through to him? Did he actually like her back?  
A mumble broke her thoughts off rather abruptly, and her eyes widened as Snicket shifted, digging his face further into the crook of his elbow. His hat was hardly fastened to his head anymore, so she diligently reached over and plucked it off, smirking at the mess of hair the was revealed with the action.  
That was another thing she liked about him--that ridiculous hair that he kept trying to hide under a hat that was far too big for his head. It was a nice shade of brown, one that reminded her of the coffee she’d been drinking earlier.   
Without much thought, she dropped the hat in front of her on the counter and brushed her fingers lightly through the brunet hair that was sticking up from being under that obnoxious hat all day. It was coarse, like hair that didn’t get washed nearly often enough, hair that went through too many fires.  
She pulled her hand away.   
Snicket fidgeted a moment, as if expecting her to continue. His expression barely changed, at least from what little she could see of it. She ducked her head closer, observing what appeared to be a hardly-visible array of lightly-dusted freckles across his upper cheek, leading a trail back towards his ear. They were so light and blended into his skin sickeningly well, she dared to discern that she hadn’t actually noticed them until now.   
She leaned away again. This was just another thing to add to the list of what she hadn’t known about Lemony Snicket. He called her an enigma, but he had just as many secrets himself.   
He didn’t trust her. She knew this, that’s why he knew more about her than she did about him. She could dig all she wanted, but he hid everything so well, she’d always come up empty.  
It was not something she particularly admired, but she sure wished she was better at doing so herself. Not that she’d been trained in the art of being shifty. Snicket had his special program for that, and what did she have? Nothing but an elusive smirk and long list of bad deeds to keep quiet about, only a few of which remaining Snicket had yet to figure out.   
Didn’t he know they were all part of the same puzzle? They each needed to play their part, but together, in order to solve the mystery. Regardless of whether that mystery involved her father and Hangfire, herself and Snicket, or just whatever it was that was going on in this wretched town. If they weren’t in this together, then what WERE they doing?  
Though, if she were honest, she figured if he’d be willing to teach her some pointers, she’d be very interested to learn.  
Hands back on the empty and growing-cold cup in front of her, Ellington sighed quietly, staring distantly in front of her instead of at the boy at her side.   
Was it meant to be this way? Was she meant to come to this town, to track down this villain, to find a boy much shorter than her so listlessly captivating that she was mindfully content to just sit in his slumbering presence in silence and not even a drop more of her favorite beverage, merely because the idea of calling for another cup would whir on a machine that made far too much noise and could potentially wake the aforementioned boy at her side?  
Was there really such a thing as fate? Was that how she’d ended up on this bumpy ride? Did this Lemony Snicket take up the position as her companion on this ride? Would she need to keep him there until she finally made it to the end?  
There she went with all the unanswered questions again…  
Somehow, Ellington felt there was a way to answer them without asking. Possibly, if she could find a way to act, rather than ask, maybe she’d figure out all she’d need to know.  
She’d always believed actions spoke louder than words, anyway.  
\--


	4. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is far too long to be a drabble, too, but oh well. I added some art to it, too~

If you’ve ever had to sneak around a school in the middle of the night with a bump on your head and no socks on your feet, you might understand why Snicket was not particularly enjoying the activity.

It was Ellington’s idea, first off. If it did paid off, he supposed he would be grateful, but in the moment, he wasn’t planning to be.

Cold feet met the cold stone floor, and he shivered, trying to will his body to get used to the contact. His body, however, didn’t seem to want to listen to him. He shivered again as he leaned closer to the wall to take another step.

Ellington was stealthily tip-toeing along the wall, keeping her eyes wide and watchful as they continued on their trek. Snicket wondered if he’d still be able to tell how green they were even in this darkness.

He followed behind her as quietly as possible. Though he knew how to sneak rather well--had had extensive training for it, in fact--a bump on the noggin and an incessant case of goosebumps kept his nerves on edge and in-tune with the wrong parts of his environment. Not the greatest way to try and be stealthy, but he was keeping up for now.

Ellington rounded a corner in silence, and Snicket turned his head to check over his shoulder one last time before trailing after her. The hallway they continued down was narrow, with no chance of escape in sight if someone were to turn the corner after them. Snicket tried not to think about their chances, and instead kept his eyes gazing forward. He would claim he was staring at the end of the long hallway and the small light coming from under the door that was far, far away, but he knew his eyes were tracing the small glinting line of light that fell on Ellington’s braids and the curve of her neck. It wasn’t like he was particularly interested in such things anyway.

Tip-toeing and silently sliding along the stone floor toward their destination, both teenagers jumped at the sound of a door loudly banging open behind them. Snicket reared his head, only to regret it a moment later.

Stew Mitchum, in his mockup of a patrolling uniform, was standing in the doorway at the opposite end of the hall. His angry eyes focused on them, and Snicket could tell, even from this distance, that he was smirking at the chance to finally have caught them.

He wasn’t going to let that chance become a victory, though.

Snicket took a quick step around Ellington, grabbed her hand without a second thought, and made a mad dash down the corridor.

At first, his thought was to get to their destination, but he wasn’t sure where the library even was, and he certainly didn’t want to lead Stew of all people to the rest of their associates.

There had to be somewhere else they could go, someplace else they could run and hide until Stew got tired and gave up looking for them. Snicket glanced left and right and ahead, just never behind him. There had to be something.

As they came upon the door at the end of the hall, Snicket realized there was a small hallway leading back around to the other end of the school. Not even bothering to speculate just how small the hallway was and what could possibly even be in it, he pulled Ellington through the doorway and ran. They ran, and ran.

Snicket turned another corner, only to find there was nothing there but an inconveniently-placed dead end. Emphasis on the word “dead,” said the bump on his head.

Stew was still stomping down the other hallway; he hadn’t quite reached them yet. Maybe they could still hide?

Snicket’s eyes darted back down the corner they’d just turned, but it was Ellington who spotted the small door along the wall. A broom closet, they’d come to find out it was, only after they’d both shoved themselves inside. Ellington landed on her back, and Snicket managed to gracefully untangle his hand from hers to hold himself up before completely collapsing on top of her. His knee smashed up against her leg, however, and they both winced at the sound. Ellington used her other leg to push at the door so it would close behind them, and just as soon as the door clicked closed, it was dark. Dark enough by which neither of them could see anything. Not even light through a crack under the door made it into this tiny room.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Ellington’s smooth voice said. Snicket could tell she was smirking as she said that. He wanted to reply with some equally-clever quip, but all he could think about how hopeful he was about there being a lock on the door.

He moved his hands, trying to get himself back up on his feet. The shuffling noises did nothing to help the tense situation. Snicket managed to lean back on his knees and turn to where he thought the door would be. It was there. He let his hand run along the door, higher and higher until he found the doorknob. He felt around it, and grimaced as he realized there was no latch or bolt, no way to lock them inside and keep Stew out.

He turned his head to look at Ellington, but he couldn’t see her. It was too dark.

Maybe Stew was only as bright as his parents and wouldn’t be able to deduce where they’d run off to? Snicket hoped with everything in him that that was the case. Or, at least, if he did happen to be smarter than that--which he doubted--that he’d get hungry or something and leave, letting them escape.

They were both good choices. Unfortunately, they were both incorrect choices.

The moment he heard the stomping down the hall, he also felt a familiar hand ghost around his neck. The goosebumps were back, for completely different reasons this time.

Snicket could hear huffing and panting from the other side of the door, his own heartbeat picking up at the sound.

Ellington’s hand gripped the nape of his neck and he tried to ignore it, keeping his ears trained on the boy standing outside the door. He tried to remember what all was in the closet that he could see before they’d shut the door. Was it possible to barricade themselves in to keep Stew from getting in?

“Snicket,” Ellington’s voice whispered so quietly, he almost didn’t hear it. He stared forward at what he could only hope was the girl beneath him in the darkness. The hand on his neck tugged him down, and he resisted only a bit, unsure just how far away she was and not wanting to crash into her like with her leg just moments earlier.

He felt a small wisp of heat against his lips and his entire body stiffened. Snicket almost wanted to ask how she could so skillfully line up their faces in the dark like that before he realized he didn’t want to know and he probably didn’t care, either. If he just let it happen, he’d get to kiss the most incredible girl he’d ever met in his life.

He’d thought about this happening a lot. For some reason, he imagined his eyes being closed, not wide open but unable to witness anything. He supposed it was essentially the same, though.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. Was Ellington going to make the first move here, or was she waiting for him to do it? Was she intending to give a completely different message? That was still possible, too, wasn’t it? No, she wouldn’t yank him down that close to her and then hold him there unless it was intentional. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

He had meant to do something, he really meant to, but then the doorknob rattled, the door was thrown open and slammed up against his and Ellington’s legs.

It hurt. The door was made of metal, after all.

Snicket moved away from Ellington’s face, afraid he’d hurt her somehow with her face so close. He was legitimately surprised at just how close they actually wound up being before he’d pulled away. Not that it ended up mattering much in the end.

An exhausted, panting Stew Mitchum towered over them from the doorway. “Aha” was written all over his face.

Snicket had craned his neck back to see the expression himself, but not for long. The familiar hand was still on his neck, and without warning, it pulled him back down once more like before. He turned and blinked at the raven-haired girl, who was beyond close enough for comfort, but he found he didn’t actually mind that.

“Do you mind?” Ellington snarled, raising one of her curved eyebrows as she moved her head to the side and scowled up at the boy behind them.

While Snicket felt the urge to snark about Stew obviously minding, he was the one who barged in after them, Ellington tilted her head up and pushed her lips against Snicket’s, no warning, no heads up, no mercy.

He found that strangely endearing.

Her lips were warm, matching the warmth of her hand on his neck, and he wondered for a moment why now of all times she’d decided to kiss him.

The answer to that question became startlingly clear a moment later.

“Ew, gross!” He heard Stew sputter behind them. The bully made an obnoxious gagging noise and took off. Snicket couldn’t have been more pleased.

He grinned against Ellington’s lips. What a good plan, he thought. She really knew how to think on her feet.

He just barely pulled back from her, still smiling, and asked,

“How did you know that would work?”

Snicket could faintly hear Stew’s running footsteps further and further down the hall. He wouldn’t be back soon.

“I didn’t,” Ellington had replied coyly. Snicket titled his head just a bit, meaning to ask her to elaborate, but she reached her other hand up to brush her fingers through his hair and continued,

“I’ve just been meaning to do this.”

He didn’t know whether to be flattered or grateful. But as Ellington pulled him back down to meet her staggering lips, he found that he could be both. And both he was.

\--

 


End file.
